


Mastermind Thief

by puzzlingnerd57



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ezekiel and Moriarty needed to interact just saying., First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Kinda crack pairing, M/M, Nightmares, Romance, Sharing a room-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puzzlingnerd57/pseuds/puzzlingnerd57
Summary: After all he'd done, Moriarty knew he'd never be accepted by the Librarians. One individual continues to surprise him.
Relationships: Ezekiel Jones/James Moriarty
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Mastermind Thief

It was with a heavy heart that the Librarians walked back into the Annex. Despite the victory against Prospero, they felt hollow. They had almost lost everything that day. Had Shakespeare not figured out how to modify the spell last minute, Baird and Flynn could have been trapped in 1611 forever. Had that happened, none of them knew what they would have done next. 

The heavy heart didn't just come from the knowledge of what they lost, but also from the Fictional trailing behind the subdued group. Moriarty had been declared as an innocent by Shakespeare's judgement, but it didn't stop them from remembering all that the man had done under Prospero. No matter how little free will he had had in the matter, he still had been the first to be summoned by Prospero, the first to do his bidding and try to kill them. Besides that, he was obsessed with Baird, whom he called duchess, for reasons unknown to them.

Ezekiel felt that his world had nearly ended. The first two people to accept him as a person and a Librarian almost were trapped centuries in the past. As much as he loved his fellow LITs, neither of them really saw him in the same way as Baird and Flynn. Despite their rocky start, Baird had become a mother figure to him, not afraid to mother-hen him if she thought he wasn't taking care of himself or scold him if he did something wrong. She saw him at his best and his worst, but never rejected him beyond an air of disappointment if he messed up. Flynn had actually rejected him at the start, but slowly warmed up to the thief until the shuffle of the library when they encountered the mixed-up Greek and Roman room. At that moment, Flynn admitted that while he had never gotten along with the Australian, he did respect the younger male. That led to him opening up about his childhood and everything while he was at the Library. Flynn did the same in exchange and the two came to a mutual agreement of respect and kindness.

Seeing the two almost trapped in another time scared him more than he would care to admit. He knew that everyone else was just as scared, worried and tired as he was, but they never would understand how he was feeling. A small part of him said that Moriarty probably was just as upset as they were, but the bigger part of him said that they shouldn't be worried about the person who had tried to kill them. He kind of regretted those thoughts though.

That small part also reminded him of how similar he and the criminal mastermind were. Both of them were criminals in their own way, both had pasts they weren't proud of or didn't want to disclose, and both of them felt like outcasts in their own worlds; Moriarty for his web, Ezekiel for his... special skills. He also had to admit that despite the negative emotions, Moriarty was not the classic, children’s storybook, or maniacal take-over-the-world villain. He was charming in his own way, and not necessarily unattractive either. He doubted that anyone would be okay with hearing him talk like that, or even thinking like that. 

"Well, I think it's time we get some sleep. Moriarty, you come with me. You'll have to stay at the library for the time being." Flynn announced as he rounded the table in the center of the Annex. With barely a backwards glance at the other people, Moriarty followed the first librarian to an empty room, leaving the three LITs, their Guardian and the caretaker in the main room.

"Why did we bring him back here again?" Stone bluntly asked, glaring in the direction that the Fictional had gone. He didn't trust the criminal. How could he? The guy had tried to kill them.

"Because Shakespeare showed us the circumstances that led to him being there with us. He was a victim of Prospero, same as us. And I may not like it, but at least we can keep an eye on him now. Better him here than somewhere in the world causing problems." Baird explained, looking at each LIT in turn, hoping for their cooperation. Ezekiel nodded slowly, knowing that they didn't really have a big say in things, but agreeing with what Baird was saying. Cassandra also nodded her assent. There was no good situation for the circumstances, so having the enemy where they could watch him and keep him from causing problems was probably the best option. Stone continued to glare but also nodded jerkily, agreeing without joy. 

"Good. Now, we should get some rest. It's been a long day." She decided, before gently shooing the LITs towards the wing of rooms they claimed for themselves a long time ago. 

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James Moriarty knew he wasn't welcomed in the Library, even three weeks after he arrived. It was made obvious by the harsh glares from the cowboy, the redheaded genius's haste to leave the room if it was to be the two of them alone and his duchess's refusal to interact beyond what was necessary. The cold stare of the caretaker and the original Librarian weren't helping much, but one resident of the hall of knowledge intrigued him. 

The thief, Ezekiel Jones, wasn't cold towards him, but rather indifferent, contented to ignore his presence without being openly disdainful. It confused the mastermind more than anything else. And yet, despite the lack of communication between the two, Moriarty noticed that every now and then, when he was in the same room as the thief, the younger man would stare at him, throwing curious glances in his direction when he thought that Moriarty wasn't looking. He hadn't realized it at first, but once in a while, he would catch that warm brown gaze out of the corner of his eye, not judging or scorning, but simply there, inquisitive in a way that confused him.

Certainly, the two of them had done some… unsavory things in the past, but the question in each glance make him want to seek out the young Australian. He wanted to know what brought that expression to the thief’s face. Possibly, also see what other expressions he could bring out. 

Moriarty had no qualms about his attraction to the male form, rather he wished he could have embraced it more. However, given the fact that the one he admired most in a more than platonic sense had viewed him as a villain and criminal, he had forced those emotions down, not wanting to have his hopes crushed by the cruelty of rejection once more. And yet, there was something in that gaze that had him searching out the young thief one afternoon. The caretaker of the Annex was the warmest of the group, and had pointed him in the direction of his goal, a warning in his eyes that should he do anything to the thief, he would have to face the caretaker first.

His search led him into the bowels of the Library, down multiple hallways that he in his exploration had not discovered, and through several hidden passages. Eventually, the sound of clicking computer keys drew his attention to an almost closed door, blue light sneaking through the barely there crack. The clicking was accompanied by soft muttering, quiet mumbles of success intermixed with almost silent curses. A shout of joy startled Moriarty out of his contemplation and he lightly tapped on the door before quietly entering, watching the thief carefully to make sure he didn’t surprise the young man.

“Hello.” He said quietly, wincing lightly at how his voice almost cracked on the word. The thief spun around in his chair, eyes wide as he recognized the voice. 

“Hey. How did you find me?” Ezekiel asked, equally quiet, if slightly more enthusiastic than the Fictional. 

“The, ah, caretaker. Jenkins. He directed me this way.” The thief nodded as though it made perfect sense to him. He spun back around to face the wall of screens. As the brief conversation tapered off, Moriarty took the opportunity to look around the room. One wall was covered with various computer and television screens, with random, brightly colored notes taped to the surface. The metal desk was cluttered with two keyboards and various other electronic components. The rest of the room was rather bare, mostly taken up by a couch with a blanket and pillow.

“Do you stay in here?” He asked. The clicking of keys stopped momentarily before starting back up.

“Sometimes. It all depends on how things are going.” The thief replied, text scrolling up one screen as an image of the main room appeared on another, and colored bubbles bounced around a third. 

“Things such as?” Moriarty couldn’t help but ask, old habits of gathering information to help his cause surfacing. The tapping stopped once more and the thief turned around, frowning.

“Are you always this nosy?” Ezekiel snapped, eyes haunted and upset. Moriarty stopped. He knew at that moment that he had overstepped a boundary, and he immediately stammered out an apology. The thief sighed.

“Stop. I get it, you didn’t know. But I’d be careful about asking questions like that to any of the other. Stone hates talking about his issues, Cass is pretty open, but doesn’t like being questioned, Jenkins, well, we just don’t ask him about his past, immortal and all that, and Baird was military. That’s pretty much code for do not pry. Flynn isn’t afraid to talk about himself, but he hates admitting his fault. Any one of them would kick your ass for that.” He warned. The criminal mastermind nodded his understanding, before staring at the figure seated in front of him. What was it about this thief that was so intriguing to him? What was drawing him in?

“Mate, are you okay?” The accented voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The thief was looking at him with concern, and he realized that he was staring.

“Yes, I am. Just… distracted.” He mumbled. Ezekiel nodded, seemingly satisfied, before he turned back to his computers. A moment later, he glanced back at the Fictional.

“If you want to stick around, you could probably help me with this. Flynn and Jenkins asked me to look at the security system, and as good as I am, I could use the help of a mastermind to tell me if I’m doing okay with it.” Moriarty couldn’t help but smile slightly. This master thief wanted his help. He could spend more time with the young man. Maybe, he could figure out what about this young man was so intriguing.

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Moriarty showed up more often at Ezekiel’s hideout after that day, relishing in the presence of someone who didn’t outright refuse to be near him, and even held conversations without being forced. In fact, it felt like the mastermind was using his hideout the same way he did, often being found there after a thinly veiled insult from Stone or a dismissal from Baird or Flynn. 

Not that he minded the company. In fact, it was kind of nice to have someone seek him out every now and then. It was pretty cool being able to talk about security with one of the greatest criminal masterminds of all time. It was amazing to know that Moriarty apparently trusted him enough to disclose things about his own life, things that weren’t written anywhere, things that he had learned since being summoned. 

The fact that the mastermind had been summoned, and was thereby not truly responsible for any crime he committed, made him feel bad though. He was a criminal, a thief, wanted for grand larceny in multiple countries. Moriarty could have passed himself off as an unfortunately named man and done anything he wanted. Why would he be spending his time with a criminal?

“Penny for your thoughts lad?” The British accented voice cut through his thoughts, and the thief realized that he hadn’t spoken or moved in almost a minute. He shook himself lightly.

“Just wondering why you’re still here.” He admitted, looking up at the older gentleman. The mastermind’s brow was drawn in confusion.

“Where else would I go? The others still treat me as though I am the worst person on earth, and I haven’t yet been given leave to strike out on my own.” He replied as though it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

“No, I mean, why are you still here. In my room. You could be reading any book in the library or examining any artifact known to man, but you’re here watching me work. Why?” The thief clarified. 

“Again I ask, where else would I go? You treat me as though I am a person. As though I haven’t committed horrible crimes. The others act as though I tried to kill everyone they ever loved, and while I might have had murderous tendencies under Prospero, I fail to understand their resentment. Rather, I fail to understand why you don’t hold a grudge against me.” He repeated, ending with a thought that had been on his mind for some time. Ezekiel let out a harsh, joyless laugh.

“Did you willingly kill someone? Physically break into a bank or museum to steal a priceless artifact? Intentionally cause harm for fun? Because if you didn’t do any of that, I highly doubt you’ve done anything to earn their anger. Besides, how could I not treat you like a person? I’m given that respect after all, and I’m a thief. Flynn literally caught me stealing a dagger when he recruited me for the Library. If you’re a criminal for things you had no choice about, then I must be a crime boss for everything I’ve done!” He ranted, standing up and beginning to pace around the small space. Moriarty’s eyes follow the young thief, taking in his rant and frustrations. Making a split second decision, he reaches out and wraps his hand around the thief’s upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. Ezekiel stumbles a little, abruptly being pulled to a stop.

“You may be a thief, but you are not evil. Nor are you some terrible person who doesn’t deserve respect. But you are a person. I am nothing but ink, paper and dark magic. I fail to understand their resentment, but I understand that they do treat me that way, and I can’t stop them.” He states, staring directly at the young man in front of him. Ezekiel’s breath catches in his throat, both the proximity of the older man, and his declaration making him freeze. Time stopped, but the moment was broken by a beep coming from the computers behind the duo. The thief turned around to look at what sounded, and when he turned around, the mastermind had disappeared, the silently closing door the only sign that he had even been there.

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It had been almost a week since Moriarty left Ezekiel’s room following one of the most shocking declarations the thief had ever heard. The statement had left him silent and stunned. Moriarty touched on the one thing that he had always felt was off about the library. Each of the LITs, himself included, had a very specific set of skills that were needed on only a fraction of the missions. It did feel some days like he was a tool meant to be used and discarded. No one understood how difficult it could be, a thief in a place where he couldn’t be himself, unless he was pointed towards a target. But Moriarty, he saw him as someone who deserved to be at the Library. As someone who was more human than himself. 

Ezekiel wouldn’t deny that there had been some truth in the statement that the Fictional was only words and paper brought to life by an evil person, but he had free will now. He was away from Prospero, and living unsupported by that magic. How could he not see himself as human? 

These were the thoughts that haunted his every waking hour in the Library. His nights were haunted by a different nightmare though. Each night, he found himself stuck in the video game loop once more, watching as his friends died over and over again, torn apart by the rage people, electrocuted, and more. Once more, he found himself bolting upright in bed, scream or terror caught in his throat as he tried to keep himself calm. 

His breaths came in short and ragged, his heart pounding faster than a marathoner. Sweat plastered his normally spiky hair to his forehead and temples and fear had his vision blurring as he struggled to escape the terror of the last loop. If was actually one of the first tries that he dreamt about, the first time he lost all three friends to the rage people. He had watched as they were ripped to shreds, then ran in fear as they turned their blood-stained faces towards him and chased him in return.

Punching the pillow below him, he forced himself off the couch he had been sleeping on in the room he had been sharing with Moriarty. Walking towards the kitchen, he decided that the best course of action would be a cup of tea and some kind of snack. The lingering echoes of panic dominated his mind though as he wandered the hall and made his way towards the main room. So distracted by the remnants of his nightmare that he didn’t notice the suit clad Fictional look up from his book, close it and follow behind the still panicking LIT.

As he entered the kitchen, he flicked on the small light over the stove and pulled out the kettle and teabags. His mind wandered as he went through the motions that came with making a cup of tea and he let himself drift slightly. 

“Ezekiel?” Moriarty whispered, voice carrying in the silence of the night. When it appeared that the thief hadn’t heard him, he approached and gently touched the younger man’s shoulder. With a loud gasp and flinch, he spun around, swinging is arm to hit the rage person who had snuck up on him. Moriarty deflected the hit, gently wrapping his arm around Ezekiel’s.

“It’s just me.” He murmured, watching as the younger man stared in shock before he seemed to deflate, breath escaping in a rush.

“Sorry.” He whispered, face flushing at the realization that he almost punched the one person he considered a friend at the moment.

“It’s alright. I startled you.” Moriarty replied, releasing the thief’s arm from the grasp he had on it. As Ezekiel turned back to the stove, where the kettle had been heating up, the mastermind couldn’t help but notice the tremble in the thief’s hands as he picked up the kettle and poured the boiling water into his mug.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Ezekiel asked, dipping the tea bag in and out of the hot water, careful to ignore the gaze of the other man.

“It has been difficult for me. Trying to adapt, knowing that I can’t go back to what I once knew, realizing that I may never be seen as someone trying to help. Most of all though, it’s knowing what I’ve done, what I’ve seen, and having no choice by to try and work through it on my own.” The mastermind confessed. The thief was silent, hands still shaking as he finished making the tea and added the sweetener.

“Heh, I know plenty about that.” Ezekiel murmured hoarsely, flashes of the loop cracking his voice. He lifted the mug to his mouth, wincing as the hot liquid burned his tongue and his hands trembled, sloshing the liquid slightly against the side of the mug. Moriarty watched with concern, not liking the tremor that kept the thief’s hands moving, even as he appeared to be more aware of his surroundings. It nearly burned the mastermind to see such a brilliant thief, such an underappreciated genius so vulnerable, so compromised.

The silence following that statement stretched on, only broken sporadically by the faint slurps as Ezekiel drank his tea. Moriarty made no move to offer comfort or make him talk. It was… refreshing in a way. The fictional was treating him in much the same way that Baird did; there, but not smothering, willing to listen, but not pushing him to talk. With Moriarty though, it was different. There was no motherly instinct driving him, nor any indication that the mastermind was doing it out of concern for how he could do his job. It was genuine concern for him, not the thief or the librarian, but for Ezekiel Jones. It was nice, as odd as it was.

“I see myself falling off the cliff again.” Moriarty admitted quietly. Ezekiel looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I know that I’m not dead, that I’m here and no longer a puppet, but I feel the wind around me, hear the waterfall…” The mastermind closed his eyes with a sigh, the memories flashing in front of him. With a soft clink, Ezekiel put down his mug, shaking hands making a few smaller taps echo before the mug was flat on the counter.

“We were investigating a DARPA facility. Something happened, and we couldn’t get back to the library. We were trapped.” The thief whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. Moriarty stared at the younger man.

“I realized that we were trapped in a video game loop. Whatever malfunctioned, it altered reality. Each time one of the others was killed, we restarted, right where we came through. Each time, only I remembered.” He choked out, voice catching as the memories crept up on him.

“Sometimes, only one of them would die. Sometimes all of them would. Sometimes it would be just me and Baird left, or me and Stone, or me and Cass, but in the end, they all died. Over and over.” Ezekiel’s voice grew hoarser with every word, every memory, until he was almost sobbing the last words. Stunned by the confession, Moriarty walked towards the younger man, who was squeezing himself in a poor attempt at self-comfort. He was shaking, and silent tears were streaming down his face. Making a split second decision, the mastermind wrapped his arms around the thief and held him close, letting him fall apart.

Ezekiel let himself cry. Tears he had been holding in since regaining his memories of the loop poured down his face. Moriarty held him upright, keeping him from collapsing to the ground as he broke down. Meaningless platitudes were whispered in his ear, moving as quickly as his tears fell. Time passed as he let the hundreds of memories, the hundreds of loops, the endless deaths and pain overwhelm him, even as the arms around him kept him grounded.

Eventually, his tears slowed down, leaving the young thief exhausted. As he made to extract himself from Moriarty’s grip, his knees began to give out, prompting the mastermind to tighten his grip.

“Easy there, you’re rather shaky.” He murmured, knowing how tired the younger man must have been to accept his help. The thief was clearly losing his battle with sleep, so he gently swept the younger man off his feet. Navigating out of the kitchen, Moriarty carried the thief to his rooms, not feeling that he had enough strength to make the trek to the computer room, or knowing where Ezekiel resided. 

Carefully, he set the thief on his bed, pulling his shoes off as he did. Moriarty pulled the covers over the sleeping Librarian, and watched as the young man snuggled deeper into the warmth. Sighing lightly, he moved towards the armchair on the other side of the room, and picking up a book, settled in to wait for Ezekiel to awaken.

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Ezekiel woke slowly, awareness coming back to him in a steady flow as opposed to a jolt of consciousness that normally followed a nightmare. But there hadn’t been one, at least, not that he remembered. He snuggled deeper into the covers that surrounded him, inhaling the smell of woodsy cologne, old parchment and the faintest hint of tobacco. Wait, his room didn’t smell like that.

Slowly, he cracked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. The room was much warmer looking than his own, with deep brown bookshelves lining one wall, and a nook with two rich brown leather chairs next to them. The walls were a warm cream color, and a window on the wall displayed a view unfamiliar to him.

Continuing to scan, his eyes stopped on the suit-clad figure seated in the reading corner. Moriarty sat, reading a book, occasionally glancing up. When the mastermind noticed that Ezekiel was awake, he closed his book and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked. Ezekiel sat up slowly, nodding. He was silent. He wasn’t sure how he got there, but in that moment it didn’t matter. Embarrassment and gratitude battled in his mind, alternating between wanting to go red from humiliation and wanting to go red from thanks. 

As the memories of how he got there began to flow back, embarrassment won over and he felt his face flush as he realized what had happened. He had completely broken down in front of the mastermind. He had never done that before! He had always dealt with the nightmares alone, not letting anyone know how bad they were. Even Flynn and Jenkins had no idea. But here was this fictional, a criminal mastermind brought here against his will, and he was willing to spill about everything. His fears, his nightmares, his insecurities that he had never told a soul. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Moriarty interjected before Ezekiel could get too wrapped up in his thoughts. He shook his head.

“I’ve never told anyone about that before. Not even Baird or Jenkins knows everything.” He paused, trying to figure out just how to explain things to the mastermind.

“In which case, I’m honored by the trust you have given me.” The fictional whispered. Ezekiel stared at him with wide eyes. If he had told Baird, she would have tried to convince him that things would get better, that he should work through it. Jenkins, well he would have offered cryptic advice about working through loss and accepting past trauma. Moriarty didn’t do either of those things. He listened, comforted him when he had no obligation to do so.

“Why are you so nice to me? I know you said once you consider me to be a good person because I’m not mean towards you, but why?” He blurted out, thoughts spilling out of him once again. Moriarty remained silent, trying to figure out how to word his response. 

“I have… found myself becoming rather… fond… of you throughout the time we have interacted. I once told you that you alone treat me as a person, and I stand by that as the truth. While some of the others no longer are hostile towards me, they still attempt to avoid interaction. You never have treated me as such. You didn’t seek me out, but you never rejected my presence.” He trailed off.

“How fond?” Ezekiel’s quiet voice cut through Moriarty’s thoughts after a long moment of silence. The mastermind didn’t speak, his voice abandoning him completely as he considered how to vocalize his response. 

Instead of trying to find his words, Moriarty slowly reached for the young criminal’s hand, drawing Ezekiel closer. He gently moved his hand up, cupping the thief’s face, before closing the gap between them.

Ezekiel’s eyes widened as Moriarty pressed their lips together. All the thoughts and worries that had flooded his head froze, only to be replaced with pure joy. His eyes slipped closed as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Time stopped as the two shared a kiss, charged with all the emotions they had blocked off in the face of potential rejection. Finally, they parted, breathing heavier.

“That’s pretty fond.” Ezekiel whispered, faint amusement coloring his tone as he opened his eyes. Despite the weight of the nightmares still present, he felt oddly light, as though he had been anxious about something for a long time. Had he been pining for Moriarty all this time?

Now that he thought about it, he had enjoyed his interactions with the Fictional. He always felt somewhat at odds with the others in the Library, Jenkins being the one exception. He didn’t have an area he truly excelled at, besides thievery, nor was he exceptionally educated in history or the arts, beyond knowing the value and age of what his target was. He wasn’t a genius at math, or science either. As much as he loved Cassandra and Stone, they made him feel somewhat lesser. Flynn was just good at everything, with degrees the thief couldn’t even pronounce. Eve was incredibly gifted in her art of protection. He was just… Ezekiel Jones.

With Moriarty though, he could be himself, show pride in what he could do and what he did know. He felt as though he was on even footing with the Fictional. They had similar understandings of the world, and how life truly was. Sure, they didn’t see the world through the same eyes as any of the other occupants of the Library, but the world they saw was fine. It was dark at times, filled with danger and crime, but it was still light too, with a sense of pride and a knowledge of their own limits. They… they clicked in a way that Ezekiel had never experienced.

He stared back at the mastermind who still perched in front of him, and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him. Moriarty looked slightly confused, hopeful, and nervous all at once. Ezekiel clapped his hand over his mouth, unable to help the silly grin that had spread across his face. He couldn’t help but feel a bit like a middle-school girl, yet he found he didn’t mind all that much. Leaning forward, he pressed another kiss to the older man’s lips, smiling as he pulled away.

“It would seem so.” Moriarty quipped as Ezekiel pulled away. He too felt a grin curving across his face, so unlike the expressions he had been sporting since his arrival in this world. He couldn’t care less that he appeared as a blushing school girl. His affections were returned and he felt them multiplying even as he sat there, smiling broadly. 

Shifting position, he reclined back against the headboard and gently tugged the thief to curl against him. Ezekiel went willingly, snuggling down into the warmth that the Fictional provided. In that moment, it didn’t matter that the others would never approve. It didn’t matter that they would probably assume that Moriarty did something to him, spelled him somehow. In that moment, all that mattered was them.

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Epilogue:

Ezekiel had known that the others would be suspicious. It wore on him and Moriarty the longer it went on. He could handle the snide comments, having done so for a long time even before the Library, but he could tell that their remarks still hurt James. It irked him that his friends could barely spare a moment to wish him well or congratulate him on his happiness before the belittled the man who gave him that. 

It ended up being Jenkins that made the biggest difference. From what the couple could piece together, the former Knight had encountered Fictionals before. In his experience, if a Fictional somehow remained detached from their book once the caster had passed on, their only ties to the book and their written character were in memories and appearance. 

Ezekiel wasn’t ashamed to admit he had pulled the caretaker into a massive hug at that. Someone believed in him, and believed him. Someone was willing to try and accept the two. Once he released the older man, he couldn’t stop the massive grin that lit up his face. He watched with joy as Jenkins shook hands with James, and laughed as a threat passed the Knights lips.

James felt himself smiling at his partner’s infectious cheer, even as the caretaker threatened bodily harm should he ever make Ezekiel upset. It had been a rough road up until that point, but it was worth it, the Mastermind and the Master Thief.

**Author's Note:**

> Um... hi? Yeah my brain said that these two needed to interact, and I was writing them as friends, when Moriarty decided to fall in love with Ezekiel and refused to leave it alone. Then, Ezekiel decided that he would return those feelings, and just started kissing. I'm starting to think that a true writer starts with one intention, then the characters escape and do their own thing, dragging the author along behind them.
> 
> Anyways, to my readers, I'm sorry I've been gone for a while. This past Christmas, it wasn't great. My grandfather passed away the day I got home from finals, and that took away most of the holidays. I just couldn't do any writing while I was helping my family out, and holding it together for the sake of my grandmother.
> 
> Now I'm back though, and am hoping to get a lot of writing done this year. Maybe I'll actually finish my multi-chapter WIP? Fingers crossed? Don't let the Supernatural series finale kill me?


End file.
